Rain | Harry Styles

3.1

'the day you left me an angel cried.'

(raindrops - ariana grande)

-

JUNE.

My eyes settled on the chaos outside as I blew out a short breath. It was only six or seven in the morning, yet absolute disarray occupied the concrete I could eye from three floors up. I watched in awe as strangers bustled past each other, colliding every so often. I watched a man wave newspapers in the face of individuals, begging to sell a copy to at least somebody. I saw a mother dragging who looked to be her daughter by the wrist along the pavement; the little girl noticeably digging her heels into the floor as she protested. I then caught sight of another woman, clothed in a suit from head to toe - I could practically hear the sharp click of her heels on the floor, despite my significant height above her. I watched her eyes glued to her phone, as she crashed into an old man, her cup of coffee lost from her hand as the dark liquid coated the stranger, her hands flying up in frustration. The city never slept, for all I knew; for the sun had barely skimmed the sky yet the streets were awake; wide awake.

"Mate?" Liam mumbled groggily from my doorway, and I hummed in response, unable to tear my eyes from the window, "You coming in today?"

"No," I said simply, now fixated on the ongoing confrontation between the snobby woman with the spilt coffee and the old man she'd victimised.

"Mate," he groaned, "why not?"

"I'm ill."

"You've been 'ill' for coming on six months now, Harry," he pressed, and I heard footsteps behind me and some shuffling, as Liam flopped into the seat beside me.

"Sit down, why don't you?" I huffed flippantly, watching as the tram rolled smoothly down the track.

"So you're ill?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?" I narrowed my eyes in his direction, "if I'd have known you'd be this annoying then I'd have left you back in Seattle."

"You miss her," Liam said slowly, and I scoffed.

"Shut up."

"I get it," he nodded slowly, "I only met her a few bloody times but I miss her too."

"Fuck off, Liam," I spat, and he didn't even flinch as I sat back in my chair, grabbing a cigarette from the pocket of my sweatpants and fumbling around with it. I didn't need a fucking lecture.

"You miss her - and that's why you're sitting in that old bloody chair, writing in that old bloody notebook at six on a Thursday morning," Liam said, and though I balled my hand into a fist, I knew he was right. I glanced over to the tatted leather notebook that sat beside me, the blunt pencil on the table beside it, shaking my head before bringing a lighter to the tube between my fingers.

"Go away," I mumbled, not bothering to deny him any further. He wasn't wrong; for once. My arrival in Manchester created the opportunity for me to ditch my past - leave behind the horrors of Seattle; that damned school, Louis, Caleb, and the rest of the assholes back there - but how the fuck was I supposed to move on and leave a bitter past behind, when my 'escape' was a return to the place it had all started?

"Get some sleep, boo. You need it," Liam sighed.

I wrinkled my nose, "didn't I ban that word?"

"Genuine though, mate - you need to sleep."

I dragged my lip between my teeth, taking a smoke, "I'm doing alright without it."

"Oh, bollocks," Liam waved his hands around, as I rolled my eyes, "those dark circles are bloody minging, and I'm picking you up some eye cream later."